UnBirthday
by Macabre Melancholia
Summary: On his 46th year of independence, Singapore reflects on his past and present. A colony, an independent state, a son, a lover, a studious person, and, of all things, an alcoholic. He'd come so far, but why doesn't he partake in the celebrations? Oneshot.


_9th August. _

_A cause for celebration, don't you think? _

Nearly empty tin of rose tea in hand, Singapore sighed. He missed the sale at Borders to help his bosses at last-minute preparations for his birthday. More specifically, the _state's _formal independence day. It never was about him, was it? He was just a personification of Singapore that didn't quite fit their...specifications, requirements, expectations, whatever.

To them, he was just another government worker. Albeit one that would stick around for a very long time.

Borders were selling books for two dollars each. While he was overseeing the delivery of food to the rehearsals, the best books were being snapped up by middle-aged women buying books by the boxful just because they were heavily discounted. Life just wasn't fair.

Since the first 9th August forty-six years ago, while his people were celebrating, he'd been at home, slowly sipping rose tea and eating strawberry shortcakes. Hey, he needed _something_ to pick him up after his and Malaysia's somewhat bitter separation, and chocolate just wasn't for him.

...So he found a bakery that would happily supply him with strawberry shortcake for the next fifty years or so. That, and rose tea.

Aah, rose tea. Tea was something left over from his days as a colony of England. Though he wouldn't call his father figure a jerk, or bastard,or tell him to drop dead ( he was more mature than Sealand, America and South Italy combined, _thankyouverymuch_), he'd admit England was very hard to read. Though England preferred his traditional Earl Grey or English Breakfast Tea, He'd always buy some rose tea for his colony when he visited.

Damn England for getting him hooked onto tea. Not that Singapore minded, though.

It's not that he didn't want to celebrate his 'birthday', it's just that he didn't like to be reminded of his past _every goddamned year_.

Of Mama Temasek, who said that she found him after her monarchy fell. Who protected him from Thailand and Indonesia, who both wanted to claim him for their own. Mama Temasek who made sure that China, Vietnam, and the rest of the asian countries know as little of his existence as possible. Sure, they knew that an island off the tip of the Malayan peninsular was nearly uninhabited, but mostly, they left Singapore alone. He didn't quite like living in obscurity, but Mama Temasek convinced him that it was for the best.

Of England, and, to a lesser extent, Raffles. Raffles 'found' him and his mother, and wrote to England about the mother and son who never seemed to age. England came, and, by that time, what Raffles named Singapore was already signed to England as part of the British empire. England promised Temasek that he'd take good care of the two of them.

Not long after that, Mama Temasek disappeared, never to be found again.

England proved to be a capable, if rather busy guardian to the young Singapore. He was rarely able to stay for longer than a week when he visited, but he always came for Christmas. He occasionally brought his other colonies over for a visit so the little boy wouldn't get too lonely. England once brought him toys, but stopped after he saw the unopened packages a few months later. Only his gifts of tea, books and curios from other parts of the world were accepted.

He didn't have the heart to tell England that whenever he brought his other colonies to Singapore's house, he would leave the other colonies playing with each other and sneak out to his marshes and forests.

There was once when England had to leave, because of the War. He wouldn't elaborate as it wasn't fit for little boys' ears.

What Singapore went through was another story altogether. All England knew was that when he left, the quiet, prodigious little boy of undeterminable race he'd left behind had somehow turned into a cold, bitter young man who demanded independence and threatened to turn this land into a communist country if he didn't.

At the very least, he wanted nothing to do with the man known as Arthur Kirkland ever again.

He thought about Malaysia, older, wiser than him, but capable of stupid decisions at the same time. First taking him under her wing when he stopped being Singapore, British colony, and started being Singapore, an independent Republic. Their foolish choice of marriage that ended quite horribly in their eyes. After that, Singapore just..._stopped _believing in love for decades.

_Look at me, getting all depressed over the past, events that had happened, things that's over and done. Maybe I should start to go out on this day, instead of being cooped up in my house. A visit to a bar would be nice._

He quickly banished the thought of alcohol in his system. Contrary to popular belief, it takes quite a lot to get him drunk. Not what you'd expect of a former colony of England, huh? But still, he didn't want a repeat of what happened ten years ago, when Malaysia and Indonesia had to haul him home after he drank too much.

He recalled getting advice from France on ways to tie up long hair without looking like a girl. A bemused France spoke of the advantages of using an elastic hair-tie over a nice dinner in a restaurant. Months later, he turned up at a government meeting with shoulder-length hair neatly and stylishly tied up at the base, just like France, when the government's anti-hippie policy was at an all-time high.

Singapore couldn't count the number of times he'd pranked his bosses or broken a few minor laws, just for the heck of it.

Shaking the tin of rose tea, he reached towards his plate of strawberry shortcake. He had enough tea left for at least five cups. His colleagues and bosses would all be busy with the celebrations tonight. Maybe he should invite his asian neighbors over?

Reaching over his cluttered desk for an envelope, he slit it open with a letter opener- a gift from Taiwan and, strangely enough, Belarus. Inside were tickets and a letter written in elegant copperplate.

_A little present for you. It's for a speech on ancient Egyptian civilization, which I'm sure you would attend. _

_Happy birthday, Adam. _


End file.
